Interesting
by moonlightBuffy
Summary: SylarPeterNathan. M. Set in the 1x20 Universe. Sylar was going to squash Peter Petrelli like a bug. Slash. Incesty. 22 is up. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Nathan Petrelli's last thoughts were about his brother.

Sylar didn't really think about it further until a few weeks after the explosion and the election, when Peter had healed and he had been standing there, all dressed up, ready to play the part of Nathan Petrelli. Peter's eyes flipped opened and there was just something in his voice that told Sylar everything he needed to know.

In his mind, Sylar smiled. It was interesting how very fucked up Peter Petrelli was. The self-proclaimed hero that would save the day had ended up causing the very thing he'd been set to stop.

So Sylar had hugged his "brother" and felt pleased how Peter had clung to him, the little extra squeeze Peter added before he pulled away. The gaze that lingered longer than it should've.

It was very interesting indeed.

"How are you, Pete?" Sylar asked. It was still strange to hear Nathan's voice as he spoke.

Peter looked dazzled and confused. "I'm fine…" he paused as he started to remember, "The explosion, Nathan… I caused the explosion!"

Sylar bent forward, touching Peter's cheek, his thumb for a second caressing it. For a moment Sylar noticed how Peter almost closed his eyes for a tiny second.

_Oh, this is going to be fun._

"I know," Sylar said, trying his best to sound calm, dark and reassuring, "Don't worry about it."

Peter suddenly looked around like a scared rabbit. "They'll be looking for me! You have to do something! All those people! Nathan, I killed all those people!" The devastation in Peter's eyes was almost touching.

"Don't worry," Sylar said, trying to pull his best Nathan Petrelli impersonation, "I'll take care of it."

Peter looked surprised, Sylar noted, but not as surprised as he should be.

He'd just killed millions of people and Nathan was willing to let it never be known.

So this _was_ something that Nathan would do…

_Interesting_.

"Now," he continued, "Stay here and rest for a while. You're exhausted. I'll come with breakfast in the morning."

Peter's eyes flickered to the window. It was night.

Sylar stood up, walking up to the door but just as he was about to walk away, he turned around and let a lingering gaze on Peter before slowly turning around again and walk out.

He smiled a mischievous grin as he walked away from the closed door.

Oh, how fun he'd have – fucking up Peter Petrelli's life.

For the next following days, Sylar left little hints of affection linger all around Peter. An extra hug. A lingering touch. Eyes that said everything and nothing.

It was hilarious and interesting to see how very appreciative and receptive Peter was for all of these things. He never looked confused, in _that_ way and he seemed to appreciate the "attention" that "Nathan" was paying to him.

Of course, the little fucked up saint had been very reluctant not to take his responsibility but Sylar found it sickly fascinating about blaming the explosion on himself. Somehow, his name would be eternal – it would be written down in history books for centuries.

Playing Nathan Petrelli for the rest of his life wouldn't make _him_ famous. It would just leave another little historical mention of how great Nathan Petrelli was. His name, Sylar, would disappear without anyone besides a handful of people knowing it.

Blaming himself for the tragedy would make him immortal.

"Look, Nathan," Peter said one day, "I really appreciate all the attention you're giving me but I'm not made of glass. I can take care of myself."

"I know," Sylar said, putting the food tray on the balcony table and then placed himself next to Peter, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I just wanna make sure you're okay."

Suddenly Peter weaselled out of his touch. "I'm not okay." His voice was so gloomy and angsty that Sylar would've sighed if he didn't use all the self-restraints he had. Peter was perhaps interesting but so incredibly overdramatic.

Sylar took a few steps forward and placed both hands on Peter's shoulders, causing him to turn around and stare into his "big-brother"'s eyes.

"What happened to all those people," Sylar said, trying to get the feeling in his voice right, "It wasn't your fault. You can't help your powers. You didn't _choose_ them. You had no choice."

"There's always a choice," Peter replied fiercely, his eyes glittering with anger as if he was angry that he couldn't blame himself. It was as if he needed to blame himself. "If I'd killed myself when I first learned that I was the bomb-"

"Don't say that," Sylar interrupted, feeling as though he should win an Academy Award for Best Performance, "Don't you ever say that, Peter. I couldn't have made it here without you. You couldn't have saved Claire… You did good, Peter. You did the only thing you could do."

"But it didn't change anything. All those people still died."

Sylar paused. "Sometimes, Peter, people have to die. That's the only way to make a difference."

Peter looked away as if he was uncomfortable with the truth but Sylar forced him to keep their eyes locked and he took a step closer. Now they were standing extremely close but Peter didn't flinch.

"Look, Peter. You have to understand," Sylar's thumb caressed Peter's cheek again, "I wouldn't be here without you. Think about all the good I can do – that we can do now. I have all the power I need now. We can make a difference. We can make people aware about us, and we can make sure that they don't freak out-"

"I thought you didn't want us to go public." Now there was confusion all over his face and Sylar realized he must've said something wrong.

_Damn._

"It was different before," Sylar said, trying to cover up his mistake, "Now I'm in Congress and I can make sure that the right image of us and our abilities are given by the media."

They didn't say anything more about it.

Two weeks later Peter was still living with Sylar. Sylar had now met "his" mother and he was fairly certain that she was somewhat suspicious about him, not that she'd ever find out though. But she'd left and there hadn't been any problems emerging from it so Sylar decided that he was still in the clear.

One day, when Sylar ate dinner, as he was leaving another of those lingering gazes that Peter immediately noticed and replied, he decided that it was time.

It was time for him to have a little bit of fun.

A small hint of a smile played across his lips even though he tried to prevent it. This was definitely most interesting.

Later that night, when Sylar was certain that Peter was getting into bed, he knocked on his door. There were two hard knocks and a few seconds later Peter opened the door. At first he looked confused, squinting against the light and the entire room behind him was dark besides a little lap by his bed.

The situation was perfect.

"Nathan, what is it?"

"I…" Sylar's voice trailed off, "I just… Forget about it… I shouldn't dump all my troubles on you." He turned around to walk away but Peter's hand gripped his arm tightly and kept him from walking away.

"Nathan, what is it?" he repeated his question and Sylar did his best to sound troubled.

"It's Heidi… I just… things aren't… they aren't going so well."

His eyes looked away from Peter and Sylar realized that the ball was entirely in Peter's court. With only a movement, he could destroy it all, but he was playing himself right into his hands. Peter stepped away from the door way and let Sylar in.

As he walked inside, Sylar came face to face with Peter for a moment, making certain that their faces were extremely close, his hand brushed against Peter's arm. He looked with his intense-est gaze at Peter and Sylar knew he had him right where he wanted him.

Now it was just to enjoy the moment.

As the door closed, Sylar sat down on Peter's bed, folding his hands into his lap, looking down at his own legs. Peter was quick to be by his side, putting his arm over his shoulder and leaned his face closely to Sylar's. His breath was warm against Sylar's (Nathan's) skin and Sylar felt a tingle rush through his body.

If Sylar was a cat, he'd be purring.

"Nathan, what's wrong?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Sylar pulled away from Peter, as if to show that there really was trouble in paradise. Peter was quick to follow his movement and it wasn't long until they were in the same position again only a bit further up on the bed.

"You can tell me." His warm breath played across Sylar's skin again and the concern in his voice was so deep, so raw…

Sylar flickered his eyes at Peter, mustering up all the emotion he could. Peter's eyes were intense, deep, raw and a million adjectives that there weren't words for. It was different for Sylar to experience this, but that was what made it so exciting.

He was going to crush Peter Petrelli like a bug. He was going to make him wish he had never been born.

"We were fighting… She said the stupidest things…" Sylar looked away and left a snort hanging in the air but as he was turning away he saw a spark of interest light in Peter's eyes.

Sylar stood up abruptly. "I don't wanna talk about it," he said harshly, trying walk towards the door but Peter's arm grabbed a hold of him with such force that his arm almost ached.

"You wanna talk about it. You wouldn't come here if you didn't."

Sylar looked at Peter, trying to mix his expression to something between anger, tension, love and hurt. Translating Peter's expression, he decided that he succeeded.

"I don't know what I came here for."

There was a moment, which Sylar had planned, where nothing and everything were said between them. Peter stared at him, his hand still tightly around Sylar's arm. Sylar took a step forward; walking up so close that there was nothing even remotely resembling personal space between them. For the past few weeks, he'd worked his way under Peter Petrelli's skin and now he was going to make that skin crawl… scream… be on fire…

"You don't wanna know." Sylar said darkly and now all he needed was to wait for the opportune moment.

Peter gazed at Sylar as if he understood what it meant. But he stood there, calm and collected as if he didn't mind. As if he could handle any secret.

"You can tell me." Peter said and Sylar decided that it was time.

Sylar put his hands on Peter's neck and pulled him into a rough kiss, trying to press in all the anxiety and sexual tension that he had created between them ever since he'd taken over Nathan Petrelli's life. Peter's lips were rough against his own.

Peter didn't react at first. His entire body froze and then tensed up, but Sylar had been around long enough to know that it wasn't a bad tensing up. He was doing everything exactly right. Peter wanted this and that was just what he'd discovered.

That frightened Peter beyond anything else.

Sylar could easily imagine that Peter would've wanted this for years and years without knowing it and now realizing it must be extremely earth shattering. Everything Peter Petrelli had fooled himself to believe was crashing down around him.

Sylar pressed their lips firmer together and even though Peter was probably trying to get his body to pull away, Sylar managed to sneak his tongue between Peter's lips. He put all his energy into the kiss. This would be his greatest achievement – the downfall of Peter Petrelli.

Peter let out a moan of pleasure despite himself and that was the jolt that Peter needed to understand what was going on. He pulled out of the kiss and almost physically fought his way out of Sylar's presence. He was panting heavily and his eyes were crossed somewhere between a dreamy expression and a terrified one.

"W-what?…" Peter didn't understand.

Sylar noticed he was breathing heavily too. That kiss, even though it had been rather one-sided, hadn't been half bad. He couldn't wait to see what Peter could do once he'd wrapped his mind around this…

He marched forward, his eyes exclusively on Peter.

"I told you…" he said, "You don't want to know."

A feeling entered Peter's eyes again which Sylar thought seemed to be regret. Peter Petrelli was definitely just as fucked up as he thought he'd be. Peter took a step forward.

"It's okay… Nathan, it's okay."

The personal space was non-existent again. Peter put his hand on Nathan's cheek, stared into his eyes and then he carefully leaned in and kissed his "brother" firmly on the mouth. Even though Peter's brain was probably telling him that this was wrong, every fibre of his body told him this was right.

Sylar replied the kiss with a vengeance. This was… great. They started moaning and pressing up against each other, their bodies rubbing together as their hands found their way to each other's necks and the kiss grew more and more intense.

Sylar pushed Peter around the room, trying to find something that would stop them, so that he could press himself as close to him as possible. He hated Peter with every ounce of his body and he was enjoying this far too much but he said it was because after this, the downfall of Peter Petrelli would be certain.

Finally they crashed down on the bed, landing with a harsh 'thmp'. Sylar felt Peter's body above him and realized that there was no way that he could be bottom in this. He had too much he wanted to do to Peter, too much he wanted to do to make his skin crawl and make him have the most unforgettable night of his life.

He wanted to be certain that Peter would never forget this night for as long as he lived because that would make his revenge all too sweet.

With a turn, Sylar ended up on top of Peter and he kissed him fiercely as he was pulling Peter's white shirt upwards, his hands travelling across Peter's stomach while doing so.

There was a brief moment of no contact between their lips and for Sylar, it felt oddly long. But soon his annoying shirt was off him and lying somewhere on the floor and they proceeded.

It was a dance. There was ripping, pulling, tugging, biting, kisses, nails scratching and at one point Peter bit Sylar's lip so hard that a bit of blood emerged from it.

Clothes were scattered all around the room and Sylar was sure that they could be heard from miles away because it was far away from quiet. Peter's desire increased his own and Sylar's excitement for revenge was only over-shadowed by Peter's excitement of finally realizing what he'd been missing – as twisted as it sounded.

As Peter came, Sylar couldn't help but smile broadly, maliciously.

This was the downfall of Peter Petrelli.

Part Two coming soon.


	2. Chapter 2

When the first rays of the morning sun crept through the blinds, Sylar decided it was time to get up. He searched through the mess of clothes that were scattered all over the floor and tried the best he could to be silent as Peter still slept on the bed.

Victory was ringing in his ear and he was certain that he had never felt more powerful that moment than ever before. Peter Petrelli had been the annoying thorn in his otherwise perfect rose. He'd been the ink that accidentally ruined his oil painting. Now he was glad to know that he had finally found the right detergent to wash it away.

Just before Sylar walked out of the room, he stared at Peter's bed, thinking that in a few days, the thorn would be gone forever.

At first he had been disappointed to realize that he couldn't kill him, but now when he'd found this way… it was much more fun. Playing it subtle didn't always equal boring. The key was to not draw attention to himself… if anyone even thought that he was still alive…Not that they'd realized who he was though – no one would ever consider that possibility until it was much too late.

It'd be everyone's greatest nightmare. And they weren't ready to face anything that didn't suggest that they had won the war. The wounds were still too fresh.

They thought they'd imagined the worst, but they hadn't even begun to understand the concept.

He would kill them all.

The pathetic expression on Peter's face grew more and more amusing every day. Sylar stayed away from Peter as much as he could and instead of sending those glances that Peter had learned to appreciate, all he gave him was cold, empty expressions filled with regret. The hurt gleamed in Peter's eyes every time they were in the same room, but they were never alone.

It was only a matter of days before Peter Petrelli would leave the house. In fact, Sylar was wondering why he was still there.

One day Sylar sat in his office, about to call Mohinder to discuss what to do to about stopping "another Sylar". Sylar felt like snorting at the idea. There wouldn't be anyone like him ever again. The cheer ignorance of these people that thought they'd saved the world could keep him entertained for days.

Just as he was about to pick up the phone, his office door flashed open and even though no one stepped in, it closed soon. Sylar smirked.

He had a visitor.

"I've told you a million times not to do that, Pete." Sylar said dryly, pretending to return to his paperwork.

As if on a cue, Peter materialized in front of him. His hair was messy and his flesh was slightly grey as if he was nauseous, the scar he'd received in the battle was slightly pink in the sharp light.

"We need to talk."

Sylar looked up in surprise. So "Pete" had finally grown a backbone or something similar to it? He had never heard his voice be so dark, determined… Interesting. Simple yet surprising. Sylar recovered from his initial shock and returned to the papers.

"There's nothing to talk about, Pete."

"The hell there isn't!" Peter snapped and his eyes were glowing in anger.

Sylar pretended to ignore him and turned a page. Suddenly, the papers flew away from the table and Sylar almost sighed. How he hated that Peter had got a hold of that power of his. He looked up, staring right into Peter's eyes without showing any emotion whatsoever.

"Calm yourself, Peter," Sylar got up from his chair and went to stand face to face with his brother, "If you've got something to say, just say it."

Peter looked as though he wanted nothing more than to hit him.

"What happened the other night…" Peter began, choosing his own words carefully, not sure where to begin.

"Nothing happened the 'other night', nothing that we should remember at least," Sylar interrupted, turning his back on Peter, about to go back to his seat behind the desk. "We all make mistakes."

Peter grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, glaring at him intensely. "It wasn't a mistake!" But as soon as the words had left his mouth, Sylar could notice Peter's hesitance.

There was a part of Sylar that wanted to give Peter some points for standing up for it, but he really couldn't care less. All that mattered now was to enjoy the heartbroken expression on the annoying little pervert's face.

"Wasn't it?" Sylar asked dryly, "What exactly were you expecting? A hug? Some nice little cuddle afterwards? You and me aren't happening, Pete. I'm married. I have kids. I'm running for president and the last thing I need is people knowing that I slept with my own brother." Sylar swallowed to emphasise the disgust and sat down behind his desk.

But Peter stood as frozen, gazing at him with a confused look. "President?"

Sylar adjusted himself in his seat. Oh, he'd forgotten to mention that little detail. To anyone. He had been planning this so long that it seemed as if it'd been public knowledge for a very long time. In his world at least. And soon it would be.

"I suppose I've forgotten to tell you that," Sylar folded his hands and looked up at Peter with a 'I know everything'-look, "Next election I'm running for president. And I'm going to win."

Peter looked as if someone had just told him that his dog died. He looked speechless. For a moment, Peter looked around the office as if he didn't know what to do with himself. His mouth was partly open but no sounds came out.

"Oh, well… Congratulations I guess." 

The bitterness hung in every syllable.

"Thanks." said Sylar, not caring the least.

The only thing that remained with him was the sound of the door shutting when Peter walked out of the door. Sylar froze for a moment, replaying the whole scene with satisfaction in his head, and then he picked up the phone and dialled a number he'd learned by heart.

"Mohinder? It's Nathan Petrelli. We need to talk."

That was the day when Peter left.

The first day when Sylar saw Mohinder after the election, he almost felt… happy. Almost. Very almost. Out of all the idiots who thought they changed the world, Mohinder was the only one who thought that there was still work to be done. Well, the only one he remotely liked anyway. But he really didn't like him either. It was… hard to define. All he knew was that when Mohinder had walked through the doors and shook his hand, he didn't feel the need to immediately wash it.

The firm handshake lingered a few seconds and he gave Mohinder a small hinted smile.

"Nice to see you, Suresh," he said, "You look a lot better than the last time I saw you."

"Thank you, Mr. Petrelli. The same to you."

They walked into the living room together and Heidi came and sat down in the sofa next to Sylar, who personally wanted her out of the room. Heidi gave Mohinder a genuine smile and Sylar remembered when he'd heard about her miraculous recovery thanks to Mr. Linderman. He supposed she could afford to be happy.

"How are you?" she asked politely and the exchange between them followed every protocol. Sylar was surprised that they didn't start discussing the weather.

He turned to his "wife" and gave her a smile. "Where's the kids?" Not that he really cared though.

"They should be home from school any moment now." Heidi replied with a discontent frown and a bitter voice. Apparently Heidi thought they'd 'stopped communicating' now that he'd made it into Congress.

Then Sylar turned back to Mohinder. "How's your research going? Made any progress with the list?"

Mohinder flashed a hesitant glance towards his wife and Heidi finally realized she wasn't welcome and walked out of the room. With that, Sylar knew that Heidi was gradually beginning to hate him.

As the wife had disappeared Mohinder began to talk. "There's not much progress to talk about. I've managed to get blood samples from various people on the list and right now my lab is looking at the gene codes to see which it is that needs to be suppressed. It's going to take another couple of months before we get any tangible results…" Mohinder looked confused as he finished, "I could've told you all this on the phone. Why did you insist on meeting me?"

Sylar leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with malice and they connecting with Mohinder's as he whispered softly;

"What I'm going to tell you is something I haven't told anyone else." There was a pause where Mohinder looked both shocked and surprised.

"I'm running for president."

"President?" Mohinder asked, but not as surprised as Sylar would've guessed. "Why?"

"This land is in chaos. We need someone to pull it together. I'm that someone, Mohinder. And I need to know that you have my back in this. I need to… show people that I'm doing everything I possibly can to make them safe."

"So you're just going to use me like some sort of promise? Use me and my research as some sort of scheme to get more votes?"

"On the contrary," Sylar said calmly, "Imagine the support. When I win the election, the funds that you'll have – billions of dollars – to secure our future… We can't have another Sylar, and the only way for us to ensure that is for me to become president. There's only so much one can do from a seat in Congress."

Mohinder said nothing but then he nodded. "I understand."

Seducing Mohinder was surprisingly easy. Sure, it took a great deal of patience on Sylar's part but it was worth it. He had got a taste for screwing with people's minds and it was like a drug that he couldn't stop. After all, there wasn't much one could do if they had to lay low.

One day after Mohinder left his office, Sylar began to get dressed and as he was putting on his Rolex, the door to his office swung open and the only sound that was heard was the sound of the door crashing against the wall.

And sounds of a familiar breathing pattern.

"So the long lost brother returns," Sylar remarked sarcastically. Suddenly remembering that his shirt was partly unbuttoned. Not that he cared if Peter noticed or not. "Hello Peter."

Peter appeared the second afterwards, glaring at him and Sylar was surprised that he didn't see actual lightning bolts in his eyes.

"What the fuck is this?" Peter demanded, throwing the latest issue of the Times on his desk.

Sylar glanced and saw the headline 'PETRELLI WORKS ON MAGICAL CURE'. He smirked but hid it well from Peter's sight.

"People need reassurance that there won't be another bomb exploding," he said and gave Peter another meaningful look, "I'm giving them that. Reassurance. People want to feel safe."

"You can't mess around with people's DNA, Nathan. You can't change who we are just because you want to be someone else. You're one of _us_. How can you even allow this?"

"Peter, I've been in press conferences all week saying the same thing. I'm not denying our existence-"

"I bet you phrased it a bit differently though."

"- But you have to understand that we can't have people like Sylar run around the streets when they can do serious damage. They need to be controlled. This city has suffered enough."

Sylar let his eyes travel over Peter's body. It looked like he wasn't taking care of himself, which pleased him greatly. Peter had turned skinny and his hair had grown and was now combed back and he looked… older. He looked like someone who had gone through a tough patch. Funny how people could change in a year.

"That's all b-s and you know it, Nathan."

Suddenly, there were steps approaching his office. Peter couldn't hear it yet, but Sylar could. Mohinder's steps. Sylar looked around to see if he could see anything that he might've forgotten, but as his eyes swept over the room, he noticed nothing.

Eventually though, Mohinder appeared in the doorway.

"Excuse me, Mr. Petrelli," Mohinder said, activating his official voice now that he noticed that he wasn't alone, "I think I've forgotten something here."

Sylar waved at him to come in. "Come in, Mohinder. We're done here anyway." He gave Peter a meaningful look.

Peter turned around to face Mohinder and the naked shock on Mohinder's face was evident. He stared at Peter for a second and then uttered his name as if it was something unbelievable, surreal.

"Hello Mohinder," Peter replied with a dark voice, sending a disapproving look his way.

"How are you?" Mohinder asked, still not quite grasping that Peter was there… and looked so different.

"I get by." Peter said dryly and sent a glance in Sylar's direction.

Sylar paid little attention to them and started to look for whatever it was that Mohinder had lost. "What did you lose, Suresh?"

Mohinder turned slightly pink. "It's nothing important really just… my watch. Have you seen it?"

Anger flashed on Peter's face as he picked up something that was lying on the edge of Nathan's desk. He flashed it before Mohinder's face. It was a gold watch.

"You mean this?" he asked and dangled it in front of his face.

"Yes," Mohinder took it from Peter, "Thank you."

Then he made certain that he left the room quickly.

Peter turned around, his expression grave and numb as he stared at Sylar. "Well, you certainly move fast."

Sylar snorted, thinking back on all the months it had taken for Mohinder to even grasp the idea. He had always been somewhat scared to admit the truth.

"Why are you here, Peter? You've made such an effort to avoid me for the past year and now suddenly, you show up only to throw accusations at me that you can read about every day in the paper."

"I just came to tell you," Peter said gravely, swallowing. "You and me are done. You're dead to me."

"I thought I've been that for you a very long time." Sylar remarked as Peter walked out of his office, not bothering to take his magazine with him. Sylar glanced at it and then threw it in the trash.

So this was it. The day when the world would discover Nathan Petrelli's secret. The day when Hiro would come and try to change it all. But he held the triumph card. No one knew his secret. This was his arena and he set the rules.

Now it was time to let them know it.

He put his hand through the door, grabbed Peter and threw him out into the hallway. He could feel Parkman's confused eyes darting from one brother to the other. "Get in there, Parkman. End this."

There was something that could only be described as thrilling excitement as Sylar walked down the hallway to meet Peter halfway. Finally he'd show them how he'd fooled them all. To show them that in the end, he'd always win.

"Brother versus brother. It's almost biblical."

They thought they were safe.

They thought that he was out.

They thought they could shape their future.

They never thought they were wrong.

"My brother can't walk through walks. Who are you?"

"An old friend." A cold chill spread down Sylar's spine as he finally morphed into himself. It felt… like freedom. Finally he could show him who he was.

How he had destroyed Peter Petrelli.

Peter's eyes sparkled with fear and anger as he added two and two together. Nathan's strange behavior, his cool attitudes towards his children, his ruthless principles against others like them…

It all added up now.

For a moment though, Peter didn't understand it all. Not completely.

"The guy they blamed for blowing up New York, but you and I know the real story. Don't we, Pete?"

He uttered Peter's nickname with the dislike he had wanted to utter for years. His blood was trembling inside his veins as Sylar realized that today; he'd finally kill him.

Suddenly he understood. Peter realized that Nathan was dead. And Sylar loved every moment of it. Nathan wasn't waiting behind some curtain to then miraculously come back after they were done. Sylar would from now on always be the closest thing Peter would ever come to the real Nathan Petrelli.

"You're going to pay for what you did to Nathan. What you did in his name."

That was why Peter could never really kill him. Then he'd truly kill his brother too.

But he still didn't understand. The world was better off without Nathan. He wouldn't have made half the president that he was. It was Sylar who had managed to get all the votes and it was Sylar who held all the speeches.

Nathan Petrelli, the real Nathan Petrelli, now only existed inside Peter's head. Everyone else had forgotten him, because it had been more _convenient_.

"What I did? When I killed Nathan he had already turned against his own kind."

"Liar."

The fire in Peter's hands grew and Sylar felt anticipation in every fiber of his body. The first fight he'd had in years. And he was certain he wasn't going to lose. They approached each other, their weapons ready.

This was going to be interesting…

FIN.


End file.
